


Show Me A Sign

by Racey



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, Cliche, M/M, Swearing, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 14:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racey/pseuds/Racey
Summary: Ichigo's crush on his gym teacher gets a little out of hand.





	Show Me A Sign

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me...just working out some kinks, that's all...
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
> 
> Onwards...

XOXOXO

 

Ishida pushed his glasses up his nose with a long index finger. “I understand your difficulty with comprehending the Japanese language, but  _ do _ try,” he said, haughty voice deadpanned. 

 

Ichigo grinned as Renji glared at the dark-haired teen. Renji Abarai and Uryuu Ishida absolutely  _ loathed _ one another. It was entertaining at best, kind of annoying at worst. Ichigo was endlessly putting a stop to their petty disputes before they could turn to blows. At one point, he'd thought they had a thing for each other, but that thought had come to a screeching halt once Ishida had begun dating a pretty, apricot-haired girl named Orihime Inoue. 

 

“Fuck off, you lab rat,” Renji snarled from the other side of Ichigo. “No one was talkin' ta you ta begin with.”

 

Ishida opened his mouth to argue back, but Ichigo held up a hand and rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up,” he drawled. “You two get on my nerves with this all day arguing.”

 

“He started it,” Renji grumbled as he crossed his thick arms over his broad chest.

 

Ichigo shook his head. The red head was his best friend and had been since grade school, but they were seniors in high school now. Somehow, the taller teen _still_ managed to behave like an adolescent. Ishida was more mature, but when it came to Renji, his composure deteriorated like a corpse.

 

They were all headed to their next period class, which happened to be gym. Ichigo wasn't too fond of exerting himself in meaningless activities, so he wasn't looking forward to that part of the class. However, there was _one_ reason he didn't mind changing into his gym uniform and attending what he deemed the most pointless class on his schedule. That reason happened to have powder-blue hair and ocean-blue eyes. His name was Mr. Jaegerjaques, and he was the sexiest man Ichigo had ever seen in his young life. Since freshman year, he'd always seen the man, who was also the school's basketball coach, but Ichigo had never actually had him as a teacher. This year was different. After seeing Mr. Jaegerjaques's name on his schedule, the hair all over his body had stood on end. He could perfectly imagine the man's outstanding body, deep, gruff tenor, and mile-wide grin at any given time of the day.

 

“Man, I'm glad we're not playing basketball today,” Ichigo grumbled, trying to shake his mind free of the tempting gym teacher.

 

Renji turned to him with a curious frown. “Why not? I thought you liked basketball.”

 

“I do. I just like _watching_ it better.”

 

Ishida snorted. “It's amazing how one so young can be so lazy.”

 

“Are my ears deceiving me?” Ichigo mused, eyebrows on the roof. “This coming from the guy who refuses to participate in _any_ gym class event, no matter what it is?”

 

“There is a distinct difference between not wishing to participate for personal reasons and just being plain lazy.”

 

“Do tell,” Ichigo said, heavy on the sarcasm.

 

Ishida rolled his eyes as Renji cackled. They continued down the long, off-white hall until they reached a staircase, where they descended into the lower level of the building. A right turn later, and they were standing in front of the boys' locker room. Ichigo shoved the door open and headed for his locker near the corner of the large room. Ishida remained closer to the door, while Renji bolted to the small office located on the opposite side of the room. He knocked on the door as Ichigo watched with a faint grin. Renji was shameless. He didn't hide the fact that he had a very big crush on another one of the gym teachers, who was also the school's tennis coach. After a few moments, Ichigo registered the sound of the door clicking open as he pulled his school polo over his head. He paused, waiting for it. As if on cue, a light tenor floated out of the small office, tone agitated and harassed.

 

“Go 'way, Abarai.”

 

“Aww, come on, Mr. Ichimaru! You told me I could help ya out with bringing yer stuff upstairs taday!”

 

A long sigh preceded the airy tenor. “I ain't got much ta take up there.”

 

“I c'n still help.”

 

A boisterous chuckle made Ichigo's skin shiver involuntarily. He peered around the door of his locker and glanced back at the office. Sure enough, his blue-haired teacher stepped out of the small room. He looked Renji over with amusement before turning back to his co-worker.

 

“Better be careful there, Gin.”

 

Ichigo watched, stunned. Mr. Jaegerjaques was ridiculously hot. He was tall, and his muscles stood out even underneath the short-sleeved, light-gray tee and navy blue warm-up pants he wore. He had a whistle around his strong-looking neck and a basketball under his left arm. His smile was to die for. Ichigo fought a love-sick sigh as he watched Mr. Jaegerjaques walk towards the back staircase that led to the gymnasium. His back was broad and defined, and his ass...

 

“Yo! Earth to Ichigo!”

 

Ichigo jumped, shook his head, and turned to his best friend, who was standing next to him, wearing a shit-eating grin.

 

“What?” he snapped.

 

“Ya know, you laugh at me all the time 'bout Mr. Ichimaru, but you ain't no better wit' Mr. Jaegerjaques.”

 

“Shut up, dumbass! Nobody asked you.”

 

“True, true. Still...at least I own up ta my crush.”

 

With that, Renji sauntered towards the stairs, his slow footsteps turning into a light jog as he spotted Mr. Ichimaru headed in the same direction. The tall, silver-haired teacher had a net-like bag filled with red dodge balls over his shoulder. When Renji caught up to him, he gently took the bag from the man and gave him a blinding grin. Ichigo wished he could be that bold, but Mr. Jaegerjaques was intimidating just as much as he was sexy. There was no way Ichigo would be able to keep it together if he was hit with the man's intense stare the way Mr. Ichimaru was glaring at Renji.

 

Ichigo finished changing and slammed his locker shut in time to see Ishida walking past, eyeing him over the top of his glasses. There was a mischievous glint in the teen's dark-blue gaze that rubbed Ichigo the wrong way. He rolled his eyes and followed the other boy to the stairs, where he slowly climbed. He remembered Mr. Jaegerjaques had informed them that they would be starting calisthenics today, and even though Ichigo was glad not to be playing basketball anymore, he wasn't exactly looking forward to working out, either. He trudged into the cavernous gymnasium and located the rest of his class on the opposite side near the opened bleachers. As he edged closer, his blue-haired obsession turned to him with a slight scowl.

 

“Let's go, Kurosaki. We ain't got all day.”

 

_Damn, that voice_.

 

Ichigo picked up his pace and stopped next to Renji, who was staring wistfully across the room at the silver-haired gym teacher. Finally, the red head faced him with a small smirk.

 

“What I wouldn't give ta bend Mr. Ichimaru over that desk in his office.”

 

Ichigo barely stifled a cackle, earning a glare from Mr. Jaegerjaques. Those penetrating blue eyes were enough to have Ichigo hot all over, fidgeting in place and everything. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and lowered his head, too worked up to hold the man's stare.

 

“Alright, we're gonna start calisthenics today, so I want ya ta line up in three rows. Kurosaki! Come help me with these mats!”

 

Ichigo felt like he'd swallowed a beach ball as he watched the man saunter over to the supply closet of the gymnasium. His steps felt leaden, even though everything inside of him wanted to sprint behind his teacher. He wasn't into open fan-boying, so he'd keep it together. Didn't mean he couldn't get his fill of looking, though. Mr. Jaegerjaques stood before the opened door, hand in the pocket of his warm-up pants as he watched Ichigo amble towards him.

 

“You drag yer feet like a caveman, Kurosaki. Think we might have ta whip you inta shape 'er somethin'.”

 

Ichigo _definitely_ had something in mind, but he was sure it was wrong in every sense of the word. All he could do was grin secretively at the blue-haired man and pretend that his thoughts weren't totally in the gutter.

 

“Sure thing, Teach. What'd you have in mind?”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques looked him over and tilted his head, a curious expression taking over his features. “I dunno yet, but I'll think of somethin'.”

 

Silence fell as Ichigo helped the man pull a few mats from the closet and position them over near the rest of his class. He hoped this was a sign of things to come for the future. If Mr. Jaegerjaques planned to single him out for the rest of the year, it wouldn't bother Ichigo in the slightest. In fact, he was already looking forward to it. Once they had all the mats that were needed, Ichigo plopped down onto one right in front of Mr. Jaegerjaques, just so he could keep a lustful eye on him. Renji sat down on a mat beside him, grin holding nothing back.

 

“I gotta say, Ich, this is the first time I've seen ya so eager ta participate in phys ed.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“No, no, see that's what ya _won't_ do. Ain't my fault yer _helplessly_ attached to our new teacher.”

 

“I'm not helplessly attached, moron mountain,” Ichigo said under his breath as Mr. Jaegerjaques lowered himself onto his own mat. “I just like what I see, dude. That's all.”

 

“Riiiight, Ich. An' I'm Cap'n Crunch.”

 

Ichigo chuckled at his best friend's joke before quieting under Mr. Jaegerjaques's blue glare.

 

“Alright, listen up!” the man called over the background noise of the gym. “We're gonna start with sets of crunches. Get those tummies nice and tight.”

 

Ichigo held back a groan as his mind, yet again, dove into the gutter. He had a feeling that he would never be able to refrain from perving out whenever Mr. Jaegerjaques said something that was even _remotely_ sexual. Instead of dwelling on the words “nice and tight” coming out of his teacher's mouth, Ichigo followed the man's lead and rested on his back, knees bent.

 

“Count 'em out. We're going up to twenty-five for now. One!”

 

Ichigo didn't have a problem with calisthenics, but it didn't necessarily mean that he liked them, either. The first set of twenty-five crunches slipped by without a ripple of disturbance, as did the second, but on the third set, his abdomen was beginning to protest strongly. Just as he was ready to skip the next set, Mr. Jaegerjaques sat up and clapped his hands. Ichigo had been watching him in between crunches, marveling at the way the man's muscles moved so fluidly. He wished he could get his abdomen to do the things Mr. Jaegerjaques's did.

 

“Alright, onto your left sides. We're gonna do some side crunches. Starting with twenty-five; count 'em out! One! Two!”

 

This was tedious and boring as all hell. Ichigo wasn't out of shape, so he didn't see the point in any of this. Sure, it provided lovely eye candy for him, but he was almost positive there had to be other ways to see his teacher in all of his manly goodness. Ichigo sighed as they went through three sets of crunches on their left sides. He didn't get comfortable because right after they were done with the left side, Mr. Jaegerjaques made them flip onto their right. Ichigo grinned as he thought about the position he was lying in. He could imagine a much more exhilarating activity that involved him on his side, back arched and ass sort of on display.

 

_There I go again_ .

 

“Kurosaki!” Ichigo jumped and glanced over his shoulder. Mr. Jaegerjaques was back to glaring at him again. “What're you waitin' on? Christmas?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Then get to it! We still have two more sets!”

 

Ichigo sighed and faked his way through the rest of the crunches. Was it too much to ask to be able to just  _watch_ his teacher instead of actually  _participating_ ? He was once again caught up in his thoughts when Renji became the focus of Mr. Jaegerjaques's attention. 

 

“Abarai! Eyes over here!”

 

Ichigo turned to his friend and saw the tail-end of yet another hopeful and admiring stare at Mr. Ichimaru across the gym. He sniggered to himself and received a kick in the shins for his troubles.

 

“What the hell, dumbass?” he hissed as he returned the favor.

 

Renji glared at him and kicked again, and just before they engaged in an all-out war, Mr. Jaegerjaques's voice cut through them.

 

“Abarai! Kurosaki! Ten laps around the gym! Now! Get outta my sight before I kick both of you outta class!”

 

Ichigo sucked his teeth and climbed to his feet. That was just great. Now he had to  _run,_ on top of being distracted from his private peep show. He fell into a lazy jog, his eyes liquid fire as he alternated his glare between the floor in front of him and the idiot red head behind him.

 

“Thanks a lot, Renji!” he snapped.

 

Renji frowned, but it cleared immediately as they neared Mr. Ichimaru's class. He completely ignored Ichigo, and frankly, that pissed Ichigo off. Renji had no right to get exactly what he wanted, while in the process keeping Ichigo from getting what  _he_ wanted. Inwardly seething, he picked up the pace in order to get the laps over and done with. The faster he could go back to ogling his teacher, the better. However, by the fifth lap, he was sweating, and he'd caught a nasty stitch in his left side. 

 

“Fuck!” he huffed as he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist.

 

This was why he hated gym with a fierce passion. Yes, he was in shape, but he really didn't like exerting energy when he deemed it unnecessary. He'd much rather be engaged in a different activity. Sweat gathered under his arms and soaked his t-shirt. Hell, his balls were even sweating, and that was just the last straw. He slowed to a walk and put his hands on his hips. He felt like he was huffing oven heat, his mouth dry as tissue paper.

 

_Screw this_ .

 

He went back to the area where his class was located and was headed for his mat, when Mr. Jaegerjaques stalked over to him. Ichigo resisted the urge to grin and lick his lips...barely.

 

“I counted five laps, Kurosaki.”

 

He was  _counting_ ? Dude, that was just sadistic.

 

“My side really hurts, Teach.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques looked down his straight nose at Ichigo before he shook his head, his blue eyes filled with condescension and a mild amount of disgust.

 

“That's just pitiful, Kurosaki. I'm kinda disappointed.”

 

“Heh. I wasn't really prepared to run-”

 

Ichigo froze mid-sentence as Mr. Jaegerjaques edged closer. The teacher's motives were more than likely along the lines of keeping Ichigo's scolding discreet, but the near proximity of so much gorgeous man was enough to have blood rushing to all the wrong places. Ichigo swallowed and tucked his lips between his teeth. Mr. Jaegerjaques smelled like fresh soap and peppermint gum, and the combination was making his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring.

 

“If you don't wanna run, I'm gonna have to keep you after school for detention. Now...that what you want, Kurosaki?” the blue-haired man asked, voice low and Ichigo could swear seductive.

 

But it was probably just his imagination.

 

“I...” he started, but stopped. This was a tricky situation. His entire body and soul wanted to scream “yes!”, but he was pretty sure that would backfire like hell. Ichigo frowned, sure that his expression made him look constipated. What the hell was he supposed to say? He'd been presented with his dream scenario, yet he couldn't reach out and claim it. “Ummm...”

 

“Are you gonna finish yer laps?”

 

Ichigo found the courage to look into his teacher's eyes. They were a swirling, cornflower blue. Almost aqua in some areas, sea-foam green around the pupils. The way Mr. Jaegerjaques stared him down made Ichigo want to tell the man everything that ran through his seriously perverted mind.

 

“N-no. My side hur-”

 

“Ya said that already,” Mr. Jaegerjaques interrupted, voice stern and deep. Ichigo fought a lecherous grin. “Be in the locker room office after classes are over, Kurosaki. Don't make me hafta come lookin' for ya, either.”

 

When the man walked away, Ichigo felt like he could breathe normally again. After a few deep lungfuls of sweet oxygen, a slow grin curled his lips.

 

_Hot damn! I got a date!_

 

It was probably too soon to celebrate, but just the thought of a few hours alone with his walking wet dream was enough to make Ichigo want to break out in the Electric Slide. Instead, he feigned irritation at being given detention. As if on cue, Renji ambled over, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

 

“Looks like _somebody_ got in trouble. What'd he say?” the red head said with a tip of his chin in Mr. Jaegerjaques's direction.

 

Ichigo thought about sharing his wonderful news, but he really didn't feel like hearing Renji's mouth. The idiot could be insufferable when he got going.

 

“He said some stuff 'bout not finishin' my laps,” Ichigo commented with a shrug. “Maybe detention. I dunno; I wasn't payin' attention.”

 

Renji snorted. “Yeah, right, you fuckin' liar. You pay attention to the man's _chewing pattern_. There ain't no way in hell you missed any words he said directly to you. Now, you're just bein' full a'shit.”

 

“Jesus Christ, you're never gonna let that go, are you?”

 

“ _Hell_ no. Of course not.”

 

Ichigo scowled and groused to himself as he made his way back to the rest of the class. It had been one time – _one fucking time_ – that he'd noticed the way Mr. Jaegerjaques chewed his gum while he'd been mid-conversation with Mr. Ichimaru. Now Renji wouldn't let him forget it.

 

“Whatever. It ain't like you can talk with the way you drool over Mr. Ichimaru. You're two seconds away from becoming a felony.”

 

“Fuck outta here, Ichigo! We're eighteen already, which is the age of consent, my friend.”

 

Ichigo chuckled, glad to have Renji's mind on something other than his obsession with their blue-haired gym teacher. Speaking of which, Mr. Jaegerjaques was back at his mat, blue eyes glowing with something Ichigo couldn't quite identify. It didn't look a whole lot like his usual annoyance with the students, but it wasn't all the way pleased, either. If Ichigo had to put a label to it, he would say that Mr. Jaegerjaques looked...mysterious, like he was up to something, or better yet, like he knew something that he wasn't supposed to know.

 

The thought gave Ichigo a chill. No man alive should look that fucking wonderful on a regular basis. He was still in the middle of giving the older, blue-haired man googly-eyes, when Renji elbowed him hard in the side at the same time that Mr. Jaegerjaques snapped at them.

 

“Get it tagether, idiots! We ain't done over here yet!”

 

Ichigo shuddered a little. He loved listening to Mr. Jaegerjaques's sexy as red wine voice, even if he had to settle for hearing it barking phys ed orders at him. He and Renji ambled back over to their mats, both considerably more sweaty than they'd started out, and both showing clear disdain for it. Ichigo plopped down onto his mat and swore under his breath at the uncomfortable moisture gathered in his nether region, while Renji was a little more...audible...with his situation. When the red head hit his mat, he let rip a loud fart that stilled the entire group of girls in the class, but had the boys howling with laughter. Ichigo chuckle-groaned as he waved a hand back and forth past his nose.

 

“Jesus Christ, you animal,” he groused as Renji cackled.

 

“It's natural!”

 

Suddenly, the girls reacted with shrieks of disgust and “Oh my god, Abarai-kun is so gross!” that Renji grinned proudly at. He reclined on the mat as if he hadn't thoroughly disrupted the class, his arms going behind his head as he smacked his lips and closed his russet eyes.

 

Ichigo chuckled again. “You're a fiend.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques used that time to blow his whistle, the piercing noise quieting the entire gym and making Ichigo wince. Once the blue-haired man was certain he had the whole class's attention, he lowered the whistle from his perfect lips and sighed as he pinched the bridge of his straight nose.

 

“Abarai, one more disruption and yer gettin' a detention. Seriously, yer like a child.”

 

Ichigo glanced over at his best friend, a knowing grin curling his lips. Oh, if only Mr. Jaegerjaques knew the perverted little things their minds conjured, he wouldn't be so quick to peg them as “children,” that was for sure. Renji seemed to agree when he locked eyes with Ichigo, smirk gone sideways and dastardly.

 

“Now! Bicycle crunches! Count 'em out! One!”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes and got into position, but his mind was still very far from the calisthenics he was forced to endure. As he peered over his knees at his blue-haired gym teacher, heat filled his gut and stirred his groin. Mr. Jaegerjaques's body was just downright unfair.

 

**XxxxxxxxX**

 

The bell signaling the end of their last period classes sounded, and Ichigo was ecstatic. He slipped his books and other belongings into his bag and climbed to his feet, every bit as eager as a teacher's pet. As he scurried to the door, a thought crossed his mind, or more like a flashback.

 

“ _Don't make me hafta come lookin' for ya, either_.”

 

Ichigo stopped in the hall, eyes going distant. If he, say, took longer than expected to get to the gym office, would Mr. Jaegerjaques actually come looking for him? His thoughts began to run wild with so many pornographic scenarios, he almost disgusted himself. But this was Mr. Jaegerjaques he was thinking about. The man was a sinful work of art that any young, nubile boy would fantasize about. Especially one who liked guys.

 

So, it was decided then. Ichigo meandered to the boys' bathroom and ran right into Renji. The red head was lounging against one of the sinks, reading a manga, and upon Ichigo's entrance, his russet eyes lit up with mischief.

 

“Oh, Ichigo, what're you doin' in here?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing, dude. How long have you been in here?”

 

Renji shrugged and glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Little over an hour? I skipped last period.”

 

Ichigo shook his head and wandered over to the large window on the opposite side of the room. As he pushed it open, he spotted a head of silver hair crossing the campus towards the tennis courts.

 

“Hey, it's your bae.”

 

Renji scrambled away from the sink and nearly knocked Ichigo over in his haste to see Mr. Ichimaru. The tall, slender teacher carried a tennis racket that he toyed expertly with, a white sweatband around his wrist. Ichigo would admit that Mr. Ichimaru was attractive in an elfish, almost ethereal way.

 

Renji growled under his breath, drawing Ichigo's attention back to his best friend. “I'll be back,” he muttered.

 

Ichigo was afraid Renji would use the window, which seemed to be the red head's idea until he realized that the window only opened a certain amount that _did not_ allow for a body to climb through. With a frustrated noise, Renji stormed to the bathroom door and swept through it without a second glance. Ichigo chuckled and counted down the seconds in his mind, and just as he reached ten, Renji exploded through the main entrance, following in the silver-haired man's steps. The noise attracted Mr. Ichimaru's attention and once he spotted Renji, the eye-roll he performed was pretty damned epic, if Ichigo said so himself.

 

“I ain't in the mood, Abarai,” Mr. Ichimaru groused before Renji caught up to him, grin wide and telling.

 

“Awww, c'mon, Mr. Ichimaru! I'll be good, I promise...”

 

Ichigo knew firsthand that tone that Renji was using, so he also knew that the red head was telling a bold-faced lie. That was all Ichigo managed to catch before the bathroom door slammed open, making him nearly jump out of the window in fright. When he turned to find the source of the commotion, everything in his body jolted and heated. Mr. Jaegerjaques stood in the doorway in a pair of burgundy basketball shorts and a black t-shirt with the school's logo over the left breast pocket. He still wore a whistle around his neck, and he had a basketball under his arm again.

 

“I thought I told ya not ta make me come lookin' for ya,” he growled into the empty room, voice echoing and vibrating into Ichigo in all the nicest ways.

 

Ichigo shook himself out of staring at Mr. Jaegerjaques's lips as he talked and nodded. “I was just using the bathroom before I came to your office, Teach.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, tell me another one. Let's go, Kurosaki, I ain't got all day.”

 

Ichigo gripped the strap of his bag as he sauntered across the bathroom. When it appeared that Mr. Jaegerjaques wasn't going to leave his perch at the door, Ichigo slunk past him, desperately wanting to brush against that hard-looking chest. As it was, he cut his eyes to the side and stared at Mr. Jaegerjaques's strong-looking neck.

 

They trooped through the halls in silence, Mr. Jaegerjaques expertly bouncing the basketball every now and then, and it made Ichigo want to see the man play for a change. The teacher was always on the sideline, guiding the students, but just those few movements showed that he obviously had his own talent in the sport.

 

“Hey, Teach...,” Ichigo started, curiosity making him bold. Mr. Jaegerjaques hummed in response, not really paying attention, but Ichigo continued anyway. “How long you been playin' ball?”

 

Blue eyes finally cut in his direction as a peppermint bubble erupted from the teacher's mouth. He smirked and caused a horde of antelope to stampede Ichigo's gut. Mr. Jaegerjaques bounced the basketball a few more times, this time passing it between his legs effortlessly.

 

“Prob'ly longer than you've been alive,” he finally drawled.

 

Ichigo wanted to be offended, and, in fact, a small, indignant squeak made it past his lips before he could silence it, but he was really getting turned on by listening to his secret bae talk. Ichigo's squeak must've amused the teacher because Mr. Jaegerjaques cackled and ruffled Ichigo's hair.

 

“Seriously kid, how old are you? Like 17?”

 

After he got over the raging storm in his belly, Ichigo drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. “I'm 18, actually.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques barked with laughter, his blue eyes crinkling up in the corners as he studied Ichigo. Man, it was a beautiful fucking sight to behold, seeing Mr. Jaegerjaques fold up in genuine happiness, even if it _was_ at Ichigo's expense. So he decided to encourage it by returning the smile and laughter with some of his own.

 

“Well, like I said,” Mr. Jaegerjaques started, sobering from his fit of amusement. “I've been playing ball longer than you've been alive.”

 

“Jeez, you sound like an old man.”

 

“Watch yer mouth, brat.”

 

It wasn't even said with any heat, Ichigo realized as he watched the blue-haired teacher with his own amusement. Maybe it was possible to get closer to Mr. Jaegerjaques... Maybe all of his perverted dreams actually had a chance of coming to fruition...

 

“Unless ya wanna do more laps around the gym while I run the basketball practice...”

 

Ichigo instantly deflated. What the hell had he even been thinking? Of course, there was no way Mr. Jaegerjaques would want anything to do with a scrawny kid like him. The teacher was a full-bodied man, with muscles for years and charisma forever. He looked like he belonged in an underwear ad, not showing young airheads how to excel in basketball and phys ed.

 

Ichigo sighed and continued along to the locker room office in quiet contemplation. He wished he could just reach over and run his hands all over Mr. Jaegerjaques's physique. The man was _unreal_. And like the man had said, Ichigo was still just a kid, even if he _was_ eighteen and officially at the age of consent.

 

They reached the office nestled in the locker room, and Mr. Jaegerjaques speared him with a stern glare.

 

“Sit in that chair 'til I get done wit' practice. Do yer homework er somethin',” he grunted before leaving the office and Ichigo to his own devices.

 

Like hell he was actually going to do his homework. There were so many other things he could do, like plunder the office that the blue-haired gym teacher sometimes shared with Mr. Ichimaru. Though, technically, the office belonged to Mr. Jaegerjaques since he was also the Director of Athletics for the school. Ichigo climbed out of the chair once he was sure Mr. Jaegerjaques was gone and headed over to the cluttered desk. It was big and standard-issue and covered with sports paraphernalia, mainly basketball flotsam, and paperwork. Ichigo shifted aside a basketball key-chain and a few driver's ed exams, grinning faintly when he realized that his favorite teacher was more popular than he'd expected.

 

He plopped down into the rolling desk chair and considered the drawers on each side. One was cracked open, begging to be inspected, so Ichigo gave into the sensation with gusto. He pulled the drawer completely wide and arched a brow.

 

“What the hell?” he muttered.

 

He'd been expecting, at best, a harmless collection of sports crap, at worst, a mountain of porn, but what he found instead were envelopes of all shapes, sizes and colors. Ichigo held up a pale pink one in the shape of a heart, laughter bubbling in his chest almost immediately. Most of them weren't opened, but this one and a few others were.

 

_Dear Mr. Jaegerjaques,_

_I never thought I would confess in a letter, but I'm too shy to say this in person. I'm completely in love with you. Do you have a girlfriend?_

_Megumi-chan_

 

Ichigo laughed until it hurt and he couldn't fucking breathe. And to think, Mr. Jaegerjaques had a drawer _full_ of these things. Thank goodness, his admiration had stayed between his legs and had never taken letter form, or his heartfelt confession would have ended up in the dead zone as well. Ichigo chuckled some more as he reached for another envelope, this one a pastel blue with ruffled edges. He sat back in the desk chair and got comfortable.

 

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_God damn are you hot_

_I want to fuck you_

 

 

Again, Ichigo keeled over in the seat with hilarity. He was crying this time. Whoever the author of that gem was was a person after his own heart. He looked inside the envelope for an actual letter, but nope...that was all there was to this confession. Ichigo also searched for a name, but came up short. He would've loved to find out who the poem belonged to so he could torture them with it for the rest of their school lives.

 

_Ah, well_.

 

When Ichigo picked up the next envelope, his heart actually skipped a beat. This one was opened...and a bright shade of orange. He was getting ominous vibes from it for some reason. He slid the folded sheet inside free and carefully laid it flat on the desk. He instantly recognized the handwriting and saw red, and not just because his best friend had red hair.

 

_Yo, Teach,_

_I think you're badass. Plus you're fine as hell, so here goes nothin'...I really like you. I hope me bein' a student won't make things awkward._

_Kurosaki_

 

All Ichigo could do was stare at the paper, angry and bewildered. He was going to  _ destroy _ Renji. There weren't any words accurate enough to describe the level of pain he was going to bestow on his idiot best friend. And then, the nature of the situation settled in his mind, making his stomach drop clear out of his ass. This letter had been opened, which more than likely meant that Mr. Jaegerjaques had at the very least glanced at it. But that wasn't what had Ichigo feeling like he was a nanosecond away from emptying his guts all over the teacher's desk, no. Mr. Jaegerjaques  _ knew _ . He knew that Ichigo had a crush on him, found him attractive, fucking...killhimnowohgod. 

 

Ichigo shot out of the desk chair and paced the small office. Was  _ that _ why Mr. Jaegerjaques had been singling him out during class? Was  _ that _ why he was a little nicer to Ichigo than he was the rest of the idiots in phys ed? Ichigo gripped his stomach and bent over, his free hand braced along the edge of the desk.

 

“Ugh, I'm gonna be sick,” he groaned, still numb with disbelief.

 

He dug into his uniform pockets, found his cell phone and hurriedly dialed Renji's number. Of course, the jerk didn't answer. Probably too busy harassing Mr. Ichimaru to care that he'd dropped a nuclear bomb on Ichigo's school life. When the beep to leave a message sounded, Ichigo whirled in place, still bent double, but back facing the door.

 

“Youpieceofshit, you'resofuckingdead, youjustdon'tevenfuckingknow!” he snapped before stabbing the end call button.

 

He was so manic with fury that he didn't even realize his words had come out in one big word salad. He took a deep breath and slowly raised to his full height. The nausea had calmed, but he was still beside himself with anger. He wanted to strangle the fuck out of his best friend, he wanted to beat the asshole like he was a stranger who'd tried to pick his pocket. He was still cooking up ways to murder his childhood friend, when he heard footsteps. He hurried back to the metal, foldout chair that Mr. Jaegerjaques had designated him to, plopped into it and grabbed a random book from his school bag.

 

He was pretending to read when the blue-haired teacher entered the room. Ichigo glanced at him, followed the man's blue eyes and cursed his terrible luck. He'd forgotten the fucking letters on the desk. Mr. Jaegerjaques strolled over to the desk, lifted the one that Ichigo had supposedly written to him and turned it over in his hand. Ichigo's face erupted into flame.

 

_ Fuck Renji, fuck my life, fuck this school, god, why can't I die _ ? Were the thoughts crammed into his mind as he bit his bottom lip and avoided looking at his teacher. Mr. Jaegerjaques probably thought he was a complete and total moron. There was a little paper shuffling and then the sound of the drawer squealing shut, but Mr. Jaegerjaques still hadn't said a word. Ichigo was afraid to look. The blue-haired teacher could shoot bullets with his eyes alone.

 

When Ichigo heard the sound of a locker door opening, he peered from the corner of his eye, just to glimpse what the older man was up to. ...And then he promptly wished he hadn't. Mr. Jaegerjaques was in the middle of removing the sweaty t-shirt he'd worn to practice, his well-defined back sliding into view. Ichigo's mouth fell open slightly as he stared at the exposure of  _ so _ ... _ much _ ... _ skin _ .

 

Fuck, was he drooling?

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques was a very, very sadistic man. He took his time stuffing the soiled shirt into a black duffel bag before turning towards Ichigo and looking over his head, a small, confused frown on his perfect fucking face. And then the unthinkable went and happened. Mr. Jaegerjaques sauntered over to where Ichigo was seated and stopped right...in...front...of...him. Ichigo's breathing turned erratic as his eyes were helplessly glued to the midriff that was like, pssht, what? Ten centimeters away from his nose? He eyed the light blue trail of hair that appeared damp and dipped below the waistband of Mr. Jaegerjaques's basketball shorts.

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques leaned forward, reaching above Ichigo to a shelf where a stack of folded t-shirts rested, bringing that enticing torso within licking distance. Ichigo felt like he might've started panting, he didn't really know. He was having an out of body experience with the desire of his teenage wet dreams smothering him with all of his presence and naked skin. Even though, Mr. Jaegerjaques smelled like sweat, he still smelled like soap and deodorant, and god help him, Ichigo's fingers twitched. He was nose-to-whatever with Mr. Jaegerjaques's piece, and he wasn't talking about a gun, either. Those basketball shorts did fuck-all to disguise the man's junk, and Ichigo couldn't breathe anymore. Hell, he might be dead from a heart attack already, how the hell would he know?

 

It was so hard to bury the urge to lean forward and grasp his teacher's dick through those god-forsaken shorts, not to mention, resist temptation in the form of the teacher's sweaty, precisely cut abdomen. When Mr. Jaegerjaques moved away from the shelf and headed back to his locker, pulling the t-shirt he'd grabbed over his head, Ichigo positively melted into the chair. He sagged like a deflated balloon and sighed with his soul.

 

Jesus fucking Christ, how the hell had he made it out of that alive?

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques glanced at him over his shoulder with a small, secretive smirk. “You alright over there, Kurosaki?”

 

Oh-ho, that  _ bastard _ . He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how much his ridiculousness had affected Ichigo, and now he was rubbing it in Ichigo's face. Fine, fuck it. Since the cat was clearly out of the bag, what the hell did he have to lose?

 

“Not really,” he mumbled, toying with a stray string at the edge of his school shirt. He waited until Mr. Jaegerjaques turned to face him with all of his attention before he gave an innocent, sideways smirk, eyes wide with feigned naivety. “I didn't realize Teach was such a tease.”

 

The amusement flickered in Mr. Jaegerjaques's eyes, wavering a bit before returning with full force. He stared at Ichigo as if he'd never seen him for a few moments, and then his face split into a wide, careless grin.

 

“Kurosaki, yer somethin' else.”

 

“Yeah, I definitely can be,” Ichigo hinted with all the perversion he possessed. He let every bit of his lechery seep into his eyes as he ogled his teacher like a snack. “Question is, do ya  _ want _ me to be?”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques had been in the process of closing up his locker and setting the duffel bag inside it next to his desk. At Ichigo's words, he glanced up with an arched brow, blue eyes intense and filled with something Ichigo couldn't readily identify. He was being so bold, so  _ brazen _ , it shocked even him, but hell, Renji had thrown him into the fire headfirst, so he might as well roast some marshmallows while he was at it. 

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques suddenly smirked and averted his penetrating stare as he brushed his thumb across his nose. “Kurosaki, I'm yer fuckin' teacher. Don't get carried away.”

 

His voice was low and serious, but Ichigo was beyond redemption at this point, so he climbed to his feet and slowly made his way over to the blue-haired man. He dragged his fingertips over the surface of the large desk until he came to a stop beside the taller figure. Mr. Jaegerjaques watched him with a blank face, blue eyes back to deadly knives.

 

“Isn't that the point though?” he murmured, eyes lowering to Mr. Jaegerjaques's throat. God, it was so tempting. “I mean, since yer my _fuckin_ ' teacher an' all...”

 

He let that sink in as he eye molested Mr. Jaegerjaques's strong-looking shoulders, his broad chest and angular jaw. He watched the pronounced Adam's apple bob up and down and swallowed harshly himself. He was centimeters away from the finest specimen of man he'd ever seen in his entire life, and all he wanted to do was touch and grab and...stuff. When he raised his smoldering gaze to Mr. Jaegerjaques's, he was frozen in place. The man was frowning, but there was so much want in his eyes, it almost made Ichigo nervous. He'd never been looked at that way before.

 

Then, the spell was broken when Mr. Jaegerjaques looked away with a loud sigh and a large hand running through his chaotic blue hair.

 

“I think it's time for you to go, Kurosaki,” he grumbled as he turned his back, hand still tugging at his hair.

 

Ichigo didn't want it to just end like this. He was  _ so _ close. There was no way he was taking no for an answer. Not after Mr. Jaegerjaques had looked at him like he was a breath away from devouring him whole. So, he did the logical thing. He shrugged, went to the door, pulled the blinds down over the window and locked it. After that, he rested his back against it and folded his arms over his chest.

 

“I'm not goin'  _ anywhere _ ...Teach.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques still had his back turned, but he glanced over his shoulder, blue eye a frosty slit and teeth bared in a dangerous snarl. Ichigo knew that he was dancing in fire, but he approached the teacher anyway, his steps careful yet sure. Mr. Jaegerjaques sprang away from the desk with surprising grace and speed, his left hand closing like a vice around Ichigo's upper right arm.

 

“Kurosaki, this ain't a  _ game _ . I'm a grown ass man,” he growled, voice so deep and rumbly, it gave Ichigo a chill. 

 

What he wouldn't give to have Mr. Jaegerjaques saying his name like that while he-

 

“Are you even listenin' ta me?” Mr. Jaegerjaques snapped, punctuating his question with a small shake. “Yer a  _ kid _ .”

 

Ichigo snatched away from the iron grip, even though he knew it would leave a bruise. “I'm not a fuckin' kid,  _ Grimmjow _ !” he said with much emphasis on the man's first name. 

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques's reaction was  _ epic _ . His eyes went unbelievably wide, shocked. Then, they narrowed into arctic-blue slits as he, quick as lightning, grabbed Ichigo by the throat and simultaneously squeezed and bent him backwards until his back was pressed to the desk. His teeth were once again bared in a feral snarl, his eyes flashing like diamonds, and his voice a guttural burr. His weight was keeping Ichigo glued in place (not that he'd want to move anyway with Mr. Jaegerjaques between his legs), but it was beginning to grow difficult to breathe.

 

“What did you say ta me?” Mr. Jaegerjaques asked, voice quiet and laced with fury.

 

Ichigo bent his knees and gripped the older man's hand with both of his, trying to gain leverage in order to either free himself or just  _ breathe _ . Mr. Jaegerjaques wasn't allowing room for either.

 

“Listen,  _ Ichigo _ ,” Mr. Jaegerjaques started, voice still a steady, vibrating hum. Ichigo blushed at the sound of his first name coming from that silken tenor, but he froze when Mr. Jaegerjaques nipped his chin with sharp teeth before continuing his speech. “I know ya saw all those letters in that drawer, even wrote one of 'em, but there's a reason I don' fuck high school boys, legal age or otherwise.”

 

Ichigo wanted to ask what that reason was, but Mr. Jaegerjaques was on a roll. The question would have been totally unnecessary.

 

“If I gave ya what yer tryin' so des'prately ta get, not only would I hurt ya, but ya'd stalk the livin' shit outta me. I ain't tryna go back down that road.”

 

So, Mr. Jaegerjaques had a stalker at one time? Ichigo ignored the fact that his teacher was choking the life out of him as the thoughts tripped around in his head. And he'd hurt him? But hurt him how? Man, he had so many questions he wanted to ask. He released Mr. Jaegerjaques's hand around his neck and tapped the man's shoulder. A blue brow twitched before arching, and Mr. Jaegerjaques finally had mercy. He eased up with the pressure and grunted, “What?”

 

Ichigo coughed and inhaled sweet, sweet oxygen for a few moments before finally gathering his wits and asking, “You had a stalker?”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques slowly made to back away from Ichigo, but Ichigo panicked and gripped the collar of his t-shirt. “Kuro-”

 

“Ichigo. You can keep callin' me Ichigo.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but before he could speak, Ichigo kept going.

 

“Tell me what happened. I-I'll leave ya alone if ya do,” he pleaded.

 

He was lying through his fucking teeth, but Mr. Jaegerjaques didn't need to know that. However, it seemed like the blue-haired teacher was much more perceptive than he let on. He narrowed his eyes again and snorted.

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

Ichigo grinned impishly but didn't reply. Finally, Mr. Jaegerjaques relented with a hefty sigh. Again he tried to ease away from Ichigo, but to hell with that. Ichigo was enjoying the older man's body warmth and pressure way too much to let that go down. Blue eyes pierced Ichigo, but all Mr. Jaegerjaques did was adjust his position. He shifted his weight onto his right elbow and focused on a spot past Ichigo's head.

 

“At my last school, there was this kid. Same age as you, eighteen, and stubborn as a mule...like you too.” He paused and ran his free hand over his face with a sigh. “I figured, ya know, fuck it. He's legal, he's cute. He might be able ta handle me. Man, I was  _ so _ fuckin' wrong. Not only did he damned near crawl outta my office, but a week later, he's back, claimin' he's in love wit' me an' shit. I tried ta tell 'im that he jus' liked havin' sex wit' me, but it all turned into a shit-show. He started following me everywhere, an' when I went on dates, I found out he was threatenin' ta kill them.” Mr. Jaegerjaques paused again and blew out an exasperated breath. “He broke into my house a couple times, an' it got ta the point where I had no choice but ta place a restraining order against him. I'm not tryin' ta repeat that scene, so I dump all my confession letters in that drawer an' stay far the fuck away from horny teens.”

 

Ichigo quirked his lips. He was  _ insanely _ jealous that some high school twerp had decimated his chances with the object of his desire. He wanted Mr. Jaegerjaques in a visceral way. He could almost  _ taste _ it if he thought about it long enough, yet some jerk he didn't even know had actually gotten a real sample? It was grossly unjust. So...Ichigo decided, he still wasn't taking no for an answer. Even if it meant he risked leaving the man's office on his hands and knees, worshiping his praises and offering sacrifices to the gods to make Mr. Jaegerjaques exclusively his.

 

Ichigo tentatively placed a hand on Mr. Jaegerjaques's cheek, drawing the man's exasperated blue gaze. “I get what you're sayin' an' all, but I still really want you ta fuck me.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques's jaw clenched tight like a Charlie horse as he stared into Ichigo's eyes. “Yer such a persistent pain in the ass, Kurosaki.”

 

Ichigo smirked, leaned up on his elbows and boldly kissed the blue-haired man's full lips. “I know. An' that's Ichigo ta you.”

 

Sweet silence. It was so quiet, their breathing sounded like hurricane gusts. Ichigo watched Mr. Jaegerjaques fight an internal battle, his eyes glued to Ichigo's lips as his thinned into a grim line, jaw jumping every few seconds. Finally, Mr. Jaegerjaques sucked his teeth and groaned, his hand going to the back of Ichigo's neck.

 

“You little shit, ya better not regret this once I get goin'. I ain't stoppin' even if ya get cold feet, so make sure this is what ya want  _ now _ .”

 

Ichigo's pupils dilated so wide and quickly, he didn't have time to think. His decision had been made the instant he'd seen Mr. Jaegerjaques for the first time, sauntering out of the principal's office that first day of classes. There was no way in hell he was saying no. He slipped an arm around the older man's neck, his other hand traveling down over Mr. Jaegerjaques's collarbone and sternum.

 

“Is that a joke, Teach?” Ichigo practically purred.

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques's eyes turned into hooded spheres of lust a second before his lips were devouring Ichigo's like a starving man, and his thick arms wrapped around him like a security blanket.  _ Holy shit _ , Ichigo thought as Mr. Jaegerjaques's tongue slipped into his mouth.  _ This is fucking happening, holy shit _ .

 

There was  _ nothing _ gentle about his blue-haired teacher. Like,  _ at all _ . Mr. Jaegerjaques was aggressive in every sense of the word. His tongue was demanding and clearly experienced, his hands roamed over Ichigo's body with the surety and confidence of a masseuse, and he had Ichigo openly moaning already. Mr. Jaegerjaques must have noticed because he pulled out of the ridiculously hot kiss with a small smirk, his nose pressed to Ichigo's cheek. 

 

“All I did was kiss ya...Ichigo.”

 

Ichigo didn't even have a response. He was too busy trying not to mess his pants at the very real sound of his name in that decadent voice. He fought a whimper and made a fist in that thick, blue hair as he faced that wicked, wicked mouth, mind already a wreck and eyes nearly closed, they were so heavily lidded.

 

“I love yer fuckin' voice, Teach.”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques rolled his eyes, gripped Ichigo's throat again, this time a lot more kindly, and kissed him deeply and thoroughly in about five seconds flat before he pulled back again.

 

“If you call me Teach again, I'm gonna leave ya with the worst case of blue balls ya've ever had in yer life.”

 

Ichigo held in a whine and threw his head back against the desk as Mr. Jaegerjaques's lips descended to his neck. His hold in the teacher's hair tightened as his heart rate climbed through the roof. They hadn't even really gotten started yet, and Ichigo was turning into a blithering mess. The sad part about it was, he wasn't even a virgin. He'd been with a few guys, but they had been  _ high school _ guys. Mr. Jaegerjaques was on an entirely different level. Ichigo wasn't used to being handled so expertly, and it had him falling apart at the seams. He hoped he made it to the good part.

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques rose and placed his weight on his hands as he looked down at Ichigo. Ichigo opened his eyes and used that time to ask the forward question that had been bugging him once Mr. Jaegerjaques had made his statement.

 

“So whattaya want me ta call ya, if I can't use “Teach?”

 

Mr. Jaegerjaques dipped his head and nipped the side of Ichigo's neck, a teasing bite that arched the teen's back.

 

“Seriously? You can use my first name ta get under my skin, but not when I'm about ta fuck you?”

 

Ichigo kind of blanked out after that. He heard that voice of sin wrap around his favorite swear word and all of his blood rushed south. There was literally none left for his head; he only had enough wherewithal to manage a nod before he was out of his mind with pleasure. Mr. Jae -  _ Grimmjow _ was chuckling to himself as he leaned up and away from the desk. He effortlessly tugged his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, afterward pointing his chin at Ichigo.

 

“I need ya ta have less clothes on, Ichigo,” he rumbled.

 

Ichigo wanted to squirm with glee at the sound of his name yet again, this time spoken more casually, but he concentrated on sitting up and ridding himself of his school shirt. He was aware that he was a shrimp compared to his teacher, but it didn't matter. Obviously, Grimmjow didn't mind since he'd agreed to an impromptu romp in the office. Ichigo chucked his school polo and was moving towards his pants when his legs were gripped and yanked, sliding his hips down to the edge of the desk. When Ichigo looked up in confusion, Grimmjow smirked at him, broad chest rising and falling, pectorals perfectly formed and, good  _ god _ , his abdomen was  _ impossible _ . It dipped and cut in ways that Ichigo thought only happened in movies. Even the scar slashing across his lower belly did nothing to take away from the awe-inspiring muscle stacked there. Not to mention, the pale blue hair trail that disappeared beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts...

 

Ichigo was still staring when Grimmjow licked his lips with a rakish, sideways grin, his tongue settling at the right corner of his mouth, a pearly canine showing as he arched a brow at Ichigo.

 

“I'll take care of this part,” he murmured.

 

His hands went to Ichigo's school slippers, nonchalantly tossing them aside before his hands slowly traveled the outsides of Ichigo's legs. It was like fire coursing over his skin, even though Grimmjow's hands were blocked by the material of Ichigo's pants, Ichigo figured he may as well have been naked. He felt everything, from the way Grimmjow gripped his calves, his knees, and ran those big hands over his thighs, where he paused to gently squeeze.

 

“Were you holdin' out on me? Your legs feel pretty in shape ta me,” he rumbled almost absently.

 

Ichigo wanted to grin smugly and gloat, but Grimmjow's hands moved over his package and massaged, and that was pretty much it for his cohesiveness. He hissed and arched into the too light touch, head flinging to the side as the sound bled into a low groan. Finally, they were inching towards the good stuff. He rotated his hips, dying with need, but Grimmjow clearly had a plan. His hand rubbed up and to Ichigo's black, cloth belt. That was undone like it wasn't even there in the first place, followed quickly by the button and zipper to his dark pants. Grimmjow tugged at the waist of Ichigo's pants and his dark green boxers, but the older man just wasn't moving fast enough, dammit. Ichigo lifted his ass and shucked both his pants and boxers with an impatient grunt. He kicked them down to his ankles and spread his knees in invitation, head tilted and expression a bit belligerent.

 

Grimmjow paused, his face telling his surprise before he started outright laughing. “Well, alrighty then,” he mumbled.

 

He ran one of his over-sized hands across Ichigo's hip, down over his thigh again, and it was like a brush fire had erupted all over Ichigo's skin. He moaned, leaned forward and tugged Grimmjow closer by the waistband of his basketball shorts before he dove in for a kiss...in that order. The blue-haired teacher chuckled under his breath as he stumbled forward a little, still somehow dominating the steamy lip-lock like it was second nature to him. And hell, maybe it was. Ichigo didn't care at this point. He was just ready to get down to business, so in order to further push his point, he reached forward with his free hand and grasped Grimmjow's heavy erection.

 

Ichigo froze, hand curving around the...fucking _log_ Grimmjow had hiding in his shorts. What the actual hell was going on? Ichigo backed out of the kiss and lowered his head so he could get a better look at the tent between the teacher's legs. What he saw made his mouth fall open some as he exhaled in utter shock. He expected Grimmjow to be equipped like a fully grown man, but this...was... _not_ what he had in mind. He licked his lips and grabbed the waistbands of Grimmjow's shorts and underwear, briefly noting that Grimmjow wore black boxer briefs before he lowered both to the man's knees. Ichigo's eyes grew with each inch of skin revealed.

 

“Oh my fuckin' god,” he breathed as he stared at his teacher's wood.

 

He'd never seen a dick that big his entire life. Not in person, anyway, because lord knows he watched a ton of porn. Grimmjow's equipment was magnificent in a powerful, kingly kind of way. It was thick, long and standing proudly away from his lower body like a flexing arm. Ichigo swallowed harshly and glanced up into  _ highly _ amused blue eyes. Grimmjow still hadn't said anything, but, really, what did he have to say? His dick more than spoke for him.

 

Ichigo cleared his throat and hesitantly began talking, “U-um...so...are you serious wit' this thing, er what?”

 

Grimmjow finally smirked and wrapped a hand around the base of his length, stroking up once, twice, three times before grunting with pleasure and licking his lips.

 

“Where's the big talker from a minute ago?”

 

“Dude, c'mon,” Ichigo said with a disbelieving smirk. “This...can I call ya Dirk Diggler?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

 

Grimmjow shook his head with a small smile as he took Ichigo's wrist. He guided the teen's hand back to his fully erect member and hummed when Ichigo gripped it again. This time, he slowly stroked, marveling at the girth of it. He lifted his head and felt himself growing warm and intensely aroused at the sight of Grimmjow with his bewitching eyes closed, head tilted down and bottom lip between his teeth. His hand went to Ichigo's shoulder and squeezed, and that was about the time that Ichigo decided he wanted to feel Grimmjow's ridiculous length in his mouth. He carefully slid off the desk and lowered himself to the floor, his actions almost reverent as he kept an eye on the blue-haired man's hefty junk.

 

“This thing is unbelievable,” he mumbled.

 

No matter how daunting the task ahead of him seemed, Ichigo wasn't one to hang his head in defeat. In fact, he planned to suck down as much of Grimmjow's monster as he could. He leaned forward, swiped at the head and groaned at the taste that jumped onto his tongue. Grimmjow tasted like warm skin and his own brand of musk, it was awesome. Ichigo wrapped his lips around the broad head, slowly sliding his mouth forward and holding his breath. It was like trying to swallow a cucumber, but so far so good. Until Ichigo looked up again. Somewhere along the line, Grimmjow had buried his hand in Ichigo's orange mess of hair and was watching beneath severely hooded lids, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Ichigo blew out a forceful breath through his nose and moaned lavishly. He used the hand not wrapped tightly around Grimmjow's manhood to stroke his own urgent desire. He hadn't realized just how hard he was until he'd seen Grimmjow making that face. He jerked himself faster, and as a result, ended up sucking harder and faster on Grimmjow's shaft. He was breathing shallow and harsh, his body yearning for more, yearning to make his teacher feel the way he was feeling. 

 

Suddenly, Ichigo's head was tugged backward, away from Grimmjow's dick. The movement caught him so off guard that he still had his mouth open, a confused frown crossing his features. Before he could protest, however, Grimmjow grinned down at him, teeth gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

 

“That's a good look for you, Ichigo. I like it.”

 

And without further ado, the blue-haired man guided Ichigo's mouth back over his erection. Ichigo gripped the base and went to town, proud of himself when he didn't immediately gag from Grimmjow's enthusiastic hip thrusts. His legs were spread apart, so Ichigo used that time to run his free hand up the back of the man's thickly muscled calf and thigh, up to his tight ass, where Ichigo grasped a handful and kneaded. He closed his eyes and titled his head, deepening the angle.

 

“Mmmm,” Grimmjow growl-moaned, his fingers tightening in Ichigo's loud orange hair. “Yer pretty good at this.”

 

Grimmjow just didn't know how far gone with lust Ichigo was. His heart was pounding out of control, he was beginning to  _ sweat _ , and his blood was nearly boiling. His skin was crawling off of his flesh with anxiety and  _ god _ , he just wanted his hot as fire teacher to  _ fuck _ him. Plus, he couldn't believe this was actually happening.

 

As if the older man had read his mind, Grimmjow tugged on Ichigo's hair again, indicating he wanted Ichigo to stop. But Ichigo didn't want to _stop_ ; he wanted to keep sucking and introducing himself to Grimmjow's masterpiece of a dick. Grimmjow insisted though, so Ichigo retreated from his temporary paradise and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“I was just starting to have fun, jerk,” he groused as he climbed to his feet and glared at the blue-haired teacher.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya want me ta fuck ya or not?”

 

Ichigo pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yer right. Carry on.”

 

Grimmjow chuckled as he lifted Ichigo onto the desk. Afterward, he pressed Ichigo down to his back and lowered himself into a squat. Before Ichigo could question the man's actions, liquid fire was enveloping his stiff erection. He gasped and threw his head back, eyes shooting closed with ecstasy.

 

“Ah, fuck,” he cursed.

 

Grimmjow hummed and Ichigo's back arched off the desk, his hips rotating of their own accord. Grimmjow ran his hands over Ichigo's trembling thighs as he effortlessly deep-throated the teen's pressing need. Ichigo wasn't sure if this was actually happening or he was having the realest wet dream ever. Either way, it was the most intense experience he'd encountered thus far. It only took an embarrassingly short two minutes before he felt like he was ready to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius. His fingers combed through Grimmjow's wild blue hair almost desperately, his breathing short and uncontrolled. He didn't want to cut the blowjob short, but if he didn't, he was going to end this thing with a bang before his teacher even got to the _really_ good part. So, he gripped a little tighter on Grimmjow's hair, blue eyes blinking open and glancing at him with curiosity. Grimmjow pulled back reluctantly, eyebrows arched.

 

“Done already?”

 

Before Ichigo could even think of a suitable response, Grimmjow was standing, his ridiculous body moving over to his locker. Ichigo missed the man's warmth, his smell, his utter temptation, but like a boomerang, he was right back, bottle of travel-size lubricant in hand. Ichigo arched a brow with a bemused grin.

 

“Pretty prepared, huh?”

 

Grimmjow smirked, but left the question unanswered, which was unfortunate. Ichigo had a few envious thoughts roiling in his mind, however, the second Grimmjow's fingers slid up the seam of his ass, those thoughts mysteriously vanished. All he could concentrate on was sensation, sensation, _sensation_. Grimmjow's fingers were coated with the clear, slick substance, and Ichigo squirmed at just the thought of what was going to happen next. He couldn't stress enough how much he'd fantasized about what was happening, about how _excited_ he was. Honestly, all he could do was feel and hang on for the ride.

 

Speaking of which, Grimmjow seemed to be on a single-minded mission. His brows were creased in determination, and his fingers were busy as bees. Ichigo didn't even flinch when Grimmjow slipped two into him. Those he was used to; he could take fingers in his ass with no problem. Hell, he'd masturbated with dildos when his own digits just weren't enough. Internally, he was prepping for his teacher's meaty equipment. He licked his lips at the thought and rolled his hips again, breath leaving him in an airy sigh. Damn, this was so much better than anything he'd ever imagined.

 

“This is so fuckin' awesome,” he murmured.

 

Grimmjow chuckled as he scissored the two fingers buried inside of Ichigo. “Not quite. Just wait.”

 

Ichigo grinned and spread his legs, his hips moving against Grimmjow's fingers in earnest. He was so anxious, he gripped the man's forearm and bared his teeth.

 

“I'm tired of all this teasing! Just get to it already!”

 

Grimmjow's fingers paused as he stared down at Ichigo in slight surprise. Mostly amusement, but surprise was in there too. After a few beats, he withdrew his fingers and shrugged. “Suit yourself, kid.”

 

Ichigo bristled. “Don't call me that! I'm not a damned kid!”

 

Another chuckle floated from the teacher's position between Ichigo's legs. “Little touchy, aren't we?”

 

“Never mind all that. I thought you said you were gonna fuck me?”

 

Grimmjow paused, his eyes intense again. Ichigo figured he would never get used to that insane blue gaze, no matter how it decided to pin him.

 

“Fine.”

 

Ichigo didn't realize that he was playing in fire until it burned the shit out of him. Grimmjow hooked his arms under the backs of Ichigo's thighs and aggressively scooted him closer, spreading his legs even wider at the same time. Ichigo watched distantly as his teacher slathered a healthy amount of lubricant over his generous erection and lined himself up at Ichigo's opening.

 

It was go time.

 

Ichigo gripped the sides of the desk, this time bracing himself for the wondrously inevitable. And then, finally, his blue-haired and blue-eyed Adonis breached him like a security checkpoint. It was amazing until Grimmjow pushed past the head and started sliding his shaft into him. At that point, he gritted his teeth and hissed, his breathing almost nonexistent. Good _god_ , it was sweet torture. Grimmjow was huge, stretching his walls like a beautiful illusion, and Ichigo was trying to endure it with a poker face, but it turned out to be impossible.

 

Grimmjow paused, retreated and pushed again, this time penetrating more deeply. Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut and convinced his muscles to remain calm while he breathed slowly, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He could do this. He could take this dick, just watch him. Grimmjow repeated his motions, pausing, retreating, only to come back with a vengeance. What felt like _forever_ to Ichigo was only a few seconds later when the teacher settled over his ass, balls-deep, twisting his hips with a low grunt.

 

Ichigo appreciated the slow going, appreciated the obvious concern for his young body, but he wanted to be _wrecked_. He wanted to be well and truly _fucked_ , just like he imagined in all of his mind-pornos. Contrary to what Grimmjow believed, Ichigo wasn't some frail butterfly who needed to be handled with care, no. He was a rough and tumble young man with a lot of surging hormones and testosterone, and right now, he was ready to expend that energy on his favorite teacher.

 

It seemed like Grimmjow either read his mind, or was already thinking along the same lines because his grip tightened, his stance shifted, and he _moved_. Ichigo threw his head back against the desk, mouth opening on a silent scream as Grimmjow started with slow, deep, firm thrusts, as if he was just testing the waters.

 

“Ahhhh,” Ichigo moaned lavishly, loving the way each one took his breath. “ _Fuck_ , yes.”

 

Grimmjow hummed and gradually upped the ante. His hips moved faster and harder, the sound of their bodies coming together growing louder and more obscene. Ichigo hadn't realized just what he'd been missing when it came to sex...until that very moment. Grimmjow tugged him closer and used one hand to spread Ichigo's legs wider still, the other running over Ichigo's lower abdomen before wrapping tightly around his straining erection.

 

“Oh my god,” Ichigo whispered harshly as Grimmjow stroked, hand expert and precise.

 

For Christ's sake, his toes were curling. His heart was beating so fast, it sounded like a horse race in his ears. Grimmjow was so effortlessly talented, it was scary. The front of his thighs banged against the side of the desk with each abyssal thrust, making what was happening very clear to anyone walking past the office, but ask Ichigo if he cared.

 

'Cuz he didn't.

 

He was too busy rolling his hips, seeking more, more, more. He was impossibly full, but his body was gluttonous, craving everything Grimmjow was dishing out and then some. He was actually impressed with himself, if he was honest. After seeing what Grimmjow was working with below the waist, he'd been a bit more than nervous about being able to handle it. Somehow, though, he needn't have worried since his body suddenly decided it was going to be a porn star that afternoon.

 

Ichigo didn't mind at all. In fact, he was enjoying the shit out of it.

 

Grimmjow broke into Ichigo's thoughts like a battering ram out of hell when he leaned over and casually licked over Ichigo's left nipple. Ichigo gasped, back arching on its own. He usually _loathed_ having sensitive nipples since immature, teenage boys were dumbasses and liked to make boob jokes about them, but he could appreciate them now. Grimmjow drew the tightened bud between his lips, suckling gently before nibbling and repeating the action.

 

And that was about all she wrote for Ichigo.

 

Ichigo felt his dick pulsing in the blue-haired man's hand a second before wave after wave of euphoria crashed over him like multiple buckets of warm water. His hands gripped whatever was within reach – which happened to be the back of Grimmjow's neck and the side of the desk – and he howled like a wolf at the full moon. It was gorgeous and embarrassing as fuck, but dear god, he was in heaven. He couldn't take the combination of Grimmjow stroking his already rock-hard and twitching length while plunging into him, filling him hard and fast, and then adding the cherry on top by sucking on his ridiculously sensitive nipple. It was too much for his senses, so like any normal system on overload, he self-destructed...in a blaze of white-hot glory.

 

He was panting and still shuddering, when he realized that Grimmjow's thrusts were getting shallow. Ichigo unglued his eyes and peered through damp lashes at his teacher, almost crumbling again at the sight. Grimmjow's mouth was slightly open, brows pulled together in delicious concentration, his fabulous abdomen tight with exertion as it flexed with each thrust. His breathing was harsh over the slight moans that left him, blue eyes hooded as they focused on Ichigo's lower half. The hand he'd had around Ichigo's erection was splayed over Ichigo's stomach, fingers sliding through the mess Ichigo had left behind.

 

“Mmm, _fuck_ , I'm comin',” he murmured, voice a thick, husky purr.

 

Ichigo felt like he was on a roller coaster at the peak of that very first hill as he watched Grimmjow's head tilt back, those blue eyes rolling shut in ecstasy. Grimmjow hissed and pulled out of Ichigo a little abruptly, only to add his own mark to Ichigo's belly, hand stroking quickly over his glistening, still rigid shaft.

 

“Ahh,” he huffed and lowered his head when he was done. His eyes slowly opened and settled on Ichigo's enraptured face. “Ya good?”

 

Ichigo's mouth felt like it was full of cinnamon, but he nodded anyway. That had to be _the best_ thing he'd ever seen, ever _experienced_ in his entire eighteen years of life. Fuck birthday cake, fuck chocolate – nothing could compare to being fucked by Grimmjow and watching the man cum. _Nothing_. Ichigo grinned and ran his fingers over the hand Grimmjow had resting on his stomach.

 

“That was awesome.”

 

Grimmjow chuckled and shook his head. “I take it you like that word.”

 

“It's convenient,” Ichigo answered with a shrug before sitting up. He winced at the dull throbbing in his ass, but covered it with a satisfied groan. “I already wanna do it again.”

 

Grimmjow stared at him, eyes narrowing into slits. “Yer not gonna stalk me, are ya?”

 

Ichigo cackled as he carefully lowered himself to the floor. His movements were calculating since all the soreness and hurt was starting to make itself known, his body beginning to show signs that he'd wrestled with a genuine monster...and Grimmjow  _ knew _ it. He watched Ichigo with a sideways smirk that made Ichigo want to punch him in the nose.

 

“I'm pretty sure I won't have to,” Ichigo snarked instead.

 

From the expression on Grimmjow's face when he'd cum, Ichigo knew that he'd left his own remarkable impression on the older man. The teacher could pretend all he wanted.

 

Grimmjow's smirk morphed into a warm chuckle as he leaned against the side of the desk, arms folded over his broad chest, still magnificently nude. Ichigo's eyes dipped to the raised scar across the man's lower abdomen, then down to his just dwindling erection. Grimmjow really was a beautiful thing.

 

“Maybe...maybe not.”

 

Ichigo snorted as he gingerly stepped into his underwear first and then school pants. His ass and lower back were  _ killing _ him, but he'd be damned if he stooped to actually showing it. Once he had his school shirt on and bag in hand, he turned back to his teacher, who'd finally slipped into his basketball shorts.

 

“Dude, I've got all the signs I need.”

 

And with that, Ichigo slowly but proudly  _ walked _ out of the office to a symphony of his teacher's laughter and triumphant music in his head.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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